Disclaimer: Neither 'Alias Smith and Jones' nor 'Magnificent Seven' belongs to me. This is fan fiction, not for profit.
Any references to people, places, businesses, etc. are entirely fictitious.
A/N – story presumes the details on the wanted posters are not entirely accurate. Story exists in the same No Amnesty - Smith and Jones story verse as previous stories.
Chapter 9 – Smith and Jones
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Outside of a saloon in San Antonio, Kid Curry clenched his jaw in annoyance. He'd found a way to make money, but dang if it wasn't humiliating sometimes. The belligerent man facing him swayed. Open mouth showed brown teeth as the man laughed.
"Lemme get this right boy," slurred the man. He held up a single bullet between his thumb and forefinger. "When I toss this bullet up, you're gonna shoot it."
"That's what I said," replied the young shootist with a nod. He gestured toward the vacant alley. "But you have to toss the bullet over that way, not where people might get hurt."
"And when you miss," sneered the disagreeable man, "you're gonna pay me five dollars."
"When I shoot the bullet, you're gonna pay me five dollars," corrected Curry in a confident tone.
Braying laugher was the man's response. A crowd gathered, watching the two men. An eager young man about Jed's own age pushed to the front. Something about his dark brown hair reminded Curry of his cousin, but he'd never seen Heyes in a suit like that.
"Is this a shootout? A real shootout!" questioned the wide-eyed youth with an accent that told of Massachusetts.
"Not really," snorted a big bellied man standing beside the Easterner. "Just some trick shootin'.
The belligerent man quit laughing and tossed the bullet, high and hard. Kid Curry's fast draw was a wonder to behold. The gun seemed to leap into his hand. One shot was fired, a second later there was a slight tinny popping sound. The tossed bullet split. The cartridge fell down to the alley below to glint in the sunlight.
"Wow," exclaimed the youth. "Did you see that?"
The big bellied man met the youth's gaze, eyes gaping wide.
"Ain't never seen anything like it!"
The man who had thrown the bullet stared, open mouthed, no longer laughing.
"You can check it if you want before you pay me," offered the young fast draw.
Curry kept his pistol out. The young fast draw had found he didn't have as much trouble getting paid when he kept the weapon visible in his hand.
"You'll see, nothing left but the casing."
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Heyes rode into San Antonio shortly after midday. Outside the stage office, an excited young man was talking to the other waiting passengers. The young outlaw heard a familiar phrase.
"Fastest draw I've ever seen…"
Keeping his eye on the young man, Heyes dismounted and tied his horse up at a nearby hitching post. He sauntered towards the stage depot and the fast-talking young man. The youth held a bowler hat in one hand and a penny dreadful in the other. Unfortunately, the station master called for boarding the stage coach just as Heyes reached the young man.
"Excuse me," Heyes reached out and clasped the younger man's arm. "I think I just heard you mention a friend of mine."
The youth looked up at Heyes with a wary expression. Heyes tilted his head to one side and smiled warmly. The other passengers moved around them into a line to board the westbound stage.
"He's about my height, blue eyes, curly blond hair," described Heyes. He paused a moment, not wanting to say the next words. Skill with a gun was a necessary survival skill most places, even in a civilized town like San Antonio, but surely that wasn't Jed's defining characteristic. "He's really fast with a gun…"
"You know Kid Curry?" gasped the awestruck young man.
"I know Jedidiah, he's my cousin," answered Heyes.
Dark eyes narrowed in sudden suspicion.
"Friend or cousin?" asked the young Easterner with a hard edge to his youthful voice. "Are you gonna call him out?"
"Both! Jed's my cousin and the best friend a man could ever have," declared Heyes. He shook his dark-haired head emphatically. "And no, I'm not going to call him out!"
The young man before Heyes stared for a moment, then seemed to make up his mind to believe Heyes.
"He's amazing," exclaimed the dark-haired youth in a rapid-fire, barely understandable babble of excited talk describing the shootist. He concluded, "I never saw someone shoot two bullets with one shot before!"
"Two bullets with one shot?" echoed Heyes.
The young man nodded. Then with a glance of disgust at a swaying man who reached for the side of the stage as if he needed it to hold him up, the dark-haired Easterner continued.
"And Curry stayed calm and peaceable the entire time, even when that lout welched on paying him."
The last of the folks standing by the coach clambered aboard, leaving Heyes staring hopefully at the young man.
"When was that?"
"About twenty minutes ago," answered the youth. "You just missed it."
"Sonny, the stage is leaving! You coming or not?" called out the driver from the top of the coach.
"I'm coming!"
The young man jammed his bowler hat on his head and stepped away from Heyes. The Kansan reached out again, grasping, almost missing the young man's sleeve as the youth stepped further away. Dark eyes met his own. The younger man looked at the slender hand clinging to him in surprise.
"I'm looking for him," blurted out Heyes in desperation. "Did you see which way he went?"
"He's probably still in town. I think he went into one of those saloons," replied the young man with a nod. He pointed vaguely down the street behind Heyes, then turned back to the coach and driver. "And don't call me Sonny, my name is J. D. Dunne!"
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In the noisy saloon, Curry leaned against a glossy walnut bar. The bartender glanced his direction. The quiet young man put a coin on the counter and called out for a drink.
"Whiskey."
A shot glass duly appeared in front of the blond while the money disappeared. Fine boned hands reached out to pick up the drink.
"Here's to you Heyes," Curry raised a glass to toast his absent cousin. "Happy Birthday. Hope Peterson was wrong and you made it to twenty-one."
He closed his eyes tight and swallowed the burning liquid in one gulp. Curry held his lips tightly closed, determined not to cough or splutter or anything else to embarrass himself. A few moments later he opened his still watering eyes. Loud voices from the other side of the bar, caught the wary young man's attention. Blue eyes blinked. The burly man was older, balding now, but those cold eyes were still the same. Curry had last seen that hard expression eight years ago, in Kansas. A scowl spread across his own youthful face.
"Where's your torch?" asked Curry in a low hiss, his anger building.
It wouldn't be hard to provoke the man into a shootout. And if the law didn't like it, the Mexico border wasn't that far away.
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Heyes moved methodically down the San Antonio street. The young outlaw entered a saloon, looked around and then left. At the ninth saloon dark brown eyes spied the object of his search. His cousin rose to stand.
"Jed," breathed Heyes.
The dark-haired man hurried into the middle of the saloon in an attempt to quietly intercept his cousin. Heyes managed to get in front of Curry. He grasped the young fast draw by both the teenager's upper arms. The shootist's forward motion stopped. At first the brooding blue eyes only seemed targeted on something, or someone, behind Heyes. But then Jed saw Han. The blue eyes lit up in recognition, lit up with joy. Heyes stepped close. He wrapped his arms around Jed in a big bear hug. Heyes could feel his cousin's ribs. Jed was way too thin. And worse yet, the arms that clasped him in return trembled.
"I've been looking for you for so long!" whispered the young outlaw.
Jed still hadn't said a word. Heyes knew he had things to explain. Four years of things to try and make right, but this minute all he could do was hold on tight. That and talk, maybe get his silent young cousin to say something too. Heyes pulled back, still holding on to Jed's shoulders. Brown eyes stared into blue. Heyes wondered what those eyes had seen in the past four years. One thing he knew for sure, this man wasn't the same boy he'd left in the seeming safety of Valparaiso.
"I'm sorry Jed," apologized Heyes as he faced his silent cousin. "I should have been there when you got out."
The blue eyes blinked. A slow smile spread across Jed's handsome face.
"Don't matter," dismissed Jed. "You're here now, that's what's important."
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Twenty years or so later, two former outlaws rode out of Thunder Ridge, headed for Porterville. Their long-time friend Sheriff Trevors had requested a meeting. The curly-haired blond nudged his sorrel alongside his dark-haired companion.
"Did Lom say what he wanted?" asked Thaddeus.
"I'm sure it's not to talk about the amnesty," smirked Joshua, dimples showing. "Probably just wants a decent poker game."
A short while later, the muscular younger man slowed his horse at they neared the growing town of Four Corners, Wyoming. Thaddeus shook his head in dismay.
"This place is getting too crowded," grumbled the quiet, peace-loving Kansan. He pointed at the town. "A few years ago, this was just a couple trails crossing each other."
"Might be more than a few years ago," suggested his older cousin with a chuckle. Joshua pointed at the largest building. "Trading post has been there at least eight years now."
His slender hand moved to the right, pointing to an elaborate barn and corral.
"And the livery has been there ever since the new stage line started," Joshua reminded his partner.
Thaddeus gave him a mild glare and then pointed to the newest construction.
"Alright, folks needed a trading post and another livery," conceded the blue-eyed man. The two men slowed their horses to a walk as they entered Four Corners. "But we already got the Porterville Press. Do we really need another newspaper?"
This time, the man using the name of Joshua Smith laughed out loud.
"You just don't like the newspaper articles about you," grinned the astute librarian. Dimples deepened as he added, "You know, some of us enjoy reading a paper."
Thaddeus pressed his lips together in a small frown.
"That kind of attention can be dangerous," replied the security conscious man.
As they road into the small town, Joshua glanced at the shiny plate glass window of the new building. He pulled up to read the writing. Gilded block letters spanned the top of the big window: The Wyoming Clarion. Smaller ornate curlicue letters swirled below announced Editor William R. Travis. On the side of the building two young men in their mid to late twenties were unloading a heavily laden wagon. Behind the wagon was an ornate carriage with an enclosed body painted a glossy red, even on the rims of the wheels. It looked like a small coach. Thaddeus gave a low whistle of approval, his eyes already focused on the magnificent horses in the corral behind the building. Four matched chesnuts and a pair of bays grazed in contentment. A tall woman whose once blonde hair now showed occasional strands of gray, called anxiously from the newspaper's side door.
"Be careful with those plates Billy, the press won't work if they get damaged."
The young man with straight blond hair rolled his eyes at the curly chestnut-haired young man beside him. Joshua's sharp ears heard the young man's voice clearly.
"You owe me two bits," smirked Billy. The young man turned his head to call back to the woman behind him. "Mother, I've asked you to call me Will or William. I'm not a little boy anymore."
The woman opened her mouth to speak again, but Will, or William, continued speaking.
"And yes Mother, Ben and I are being careful. Very careful!"
At that moment, there was a commotion in the front of the newspaper building. A small chestnut-haired boy, about seven or eight years old, barreled down the inside stairs. The child raced across the empty front room. He turned his head to look at his pursuit. Three girls of varying ages followed. The oldest appeared to be about sixteen thought Joshua. She had straight auburn hair, but the two younger girls had strawberry blonde curls. The little boy squealed. He pushed open the front door without looking where he was going and raced out directly into the street.
"Whoa!" Joshua shouted.
He pulled on his reins desperately trying to control his suddenly rearing horse. Beside him, Thaddeus's horse neighed in alarm. Saddle empty, the animal tried to sidestep away from the sudden chaos. Joshua struggled to maintain his seat. Where was his partner? And that boy? Out of the corner of his eye, the dark-haired former outlaw saw a familiar sheepskin jacket. His quick-thinking cousin must have launched himself out of his saddle. A hurried dismount, the opposite of the hurried jumping into saddles they had done so many times before. Thaddeus caught the boy in a roll. Together man and child tumbled to a stop at the safety of the newspaper's front porch.
"Whoa!" Joshua called again with all the firm resolve of a man used to being obeyed.
His horse settled as Will, Ben and the tall blonde woman ran to join the girls now on the front porch. Joshua slowly climbed down to stand beside the skittish horses. He took the reins dangling from Thaddeus's horse before either animal could get injured. Townsfolk poured into the street to gape at the near tragedy.
"Ezra Calloway Standish what do you think you were doing?" demanded the frightened blonde woman.
She bent down and scooped the boy up from Thaddeus's arms. Will and Ben helped Thaddeus up from the ground. The man of action backed away from the building to stand beside his partner. Meanwhile Joshua stared at the woman and the small child she hugged so tightly. The former outlaw hadn't heard the name Standish in years. Joshua remembered a friend from long ago, from before he was one of the two most successful outlaws in the West, from before trying for amnesty with his partner, from before he'd ever heard of Thunder Ridge or this little town of Four Corners Wyoming. Was this boy the child of his one-time friend Ezra P. Standish? A thumping noise interrupted Joshua's musing. A familiar chestnut-haired man, temples now touched with silver appeared. A mahogany cane thumped against the wide pine planks of the floor with every step he took. Joshua recognized him immediately.
"Be ready for anything," hissed Joshua in a low whisper to his partner. "He knows me, which means he will know who you are too."
His friend from years ago hadn't been interested in the hundred-dollar reward on a young Hannibal Heyes. Joshua hoped ten thousand dollars times two wouldn't change that, but it was best to be prepared. Ezra leaned on the fancy cane, clasping an ornate brass handle as he slowly sauntered across the empty room. He joined the others on the porch. Sharp green eyes assessed the situation. Ezra checked each member of the group. His family realized Joshua.
"Father, everyone's fine," stated Ben in answer to the man's unspoken question. "Cal just gave us all a little scare."
Then Standish turned to look at the two men from Thunder Ridge. Ezra recognized Hannibal Heyes immediately. Joshua knew it, but he doubted anyone else realized it… well maybe his wife suspected something. Her pale green eyes narrowed as she watched their interaction closely.
"Pardon me sir," drawled Ezra. His head tilted to the side and he looked a bit confused. Joshua was sure the act was meant for the benefit of the surrounding townsfolk and maybe his wife and children too. "You look familiar. Have we met before?"
Joshua's dark brown eyes lit up in relief. His friend was giving him an out. He could introduce himself with his current name, or even deny knowing the southerner.
"You look familiar to me too, but I can't quite place you," agreed Joshua.
"Forgive me," an elegant hand adorned with a familiar ruby ring and a wide gold band pressed against the man's chest. "Ezra P. Standish, of Four Corners, Arizona Territory." With a gesture to the woman beside him, Ezra added, "My lady wife, the children and I are visiting town briefly to see our eldest boys settled in their new venture before returning to our home."
The southerner switched the cane to his left hand, then stepped forward to extend his right towards Joshua with a warm smile. Green eyes met brown. Joshua knew his secret was safe. The two men clasped hands.
"I'm Joshua Smith, run the library over at Thunder Ridge."
Joshua released his grip on Ezra's hand to gesture to the younger man standing at his side. The quiet man who leaped to rescue small children, the partner who had always had Joshua's back, the fast draw whose gun almost seemed to leap into his hand… better not mention that last bit thought Joshua.
"This here's my partner, Thaddeus Jones," introduced Joshua. "He's a gunsmith, got a repair shop in Thunder Ridge, and sometimes rides as a deputy for Sheriff Lom Trevors over at Porterville…"
Joshua left the words hanging. Lom had travelled far and wide. Ezra might have heard of the famous lawman. Would Standish want to make a connection through knowing a lawman? If nothing else, if the gambler needed to be convinced that Curry and Heyes had gone straight. It wouldn't hurt to let the southerner know they were friends with the sheriff.
"Ahh, yes, I remember Sheriff Trevors. He used to send us updates on Wyoming miscreants that might be in Arizona territory," Ezra nodded. He leaned forward and raised a finger as if remembering something long forgotten. "Did you ever go to the sheriff's meetings in Denver? Perhaps that's where I remember meeting you."
"Send updates? Sheriff meetings?" echoed Joshua in puzzlement. And who is 'us' wondered the former outlaw. "I'm not sure what you're referring too, but yes, I've been to Denver."
The blond woman spoke up. The boy in her arms wriggled as if trying to get down, but she tightened her grip on the child.
"My husband was a lawman, one of the seven, when he first came to our Four Corner's."
"The seven?" asked Thaddeus. Joshua noted the sudden tension in his partner's body. "You mean The Magnificent Seven?"
Oooh! That explained his partner's concern. Even Joshua had heard of the exploits of the group of lawmen tending to the Arizona border town. Standish waved his hand dismissively.
"Only if you read that annoying writer Jock Steele's lurid prose," answered Standish. "I prefer to think of the others as my compatriots, brothers in arms... brothers actually."
"Even Josiah?" smirked the woman.
Green eyes rolled. A grin dimpled Ezra's face.
"Brothers and one would be father," chuckled Ezra.
"Did one town really need seven lawmen?" prodded Joshua.
Porterville managed with just Lom, Deputy Harker and occasional help from some former outlaws.
"Once perhaps," answered Ezra. His eyes darted to the cane in his hand. "Thankfully, things are a little more peaceful now."
"Sheriff Dunne keeps watch over Four Corners, with six men he can trust to back him if needed," stated the woman at Ezra's side. She smiled proudly. "And Ezra is the mayor now."
The crowd around them began to disperse as the southerner reached out to shake hands with Thaddeus. Happy folks greeting each other and shaking hands, didn't seem to hold anyone's attention.
"Thank you, sir," sounded Ezra's memorable drawl he spoke to Thaddeus. "We appreciate you saving our darling boy from injury."
As Ezra, Thaddeus and Joshua continued talking, the tall blonde woman settled young Cal on the porch, dusted his britches lightly and pushed him towards the open door of the newspaper office.
"Go back inside, all of you," admonished the woman to the youngsters. With a pointed look at Will and Ben, she added, "That wagon's not going to unload itself."
The younger generation moved off at her behest, before she turned back to face Joshua and Thaddeus with a skeptical look.
"Smith and Jones? Really?" questioned the inquisitive blonde woman.
"Mary, there are lots of Smiths and Jones in the world," declared Ezra with a glance at his wife.
"It's just a bit of a coincidence, don't you think?"
"A coincidence," assured Standish. "Just like our fair town is named Four Corners in Arizona territory, a shared name with this hamlet in Wyoming, and I daresay a multitude of other places."
"Really?"
The woman huffed again in disbelief. Ezra turned to face the two former outlaws again. A flash of gold showed in his bright grin.
"I'll bet you get asked that a lot."
"You'd win that bet," Thaddeus responded, shaking his head with a rueful grin.
Heyes and Standish burst out in laughter.
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